Date: Mon, 20 Oct 2003 21:13:21 -0500
From: Fredric L. Brothers <flbrothers@hotmail.com>
Subject: ANOTHER LAWN BOY STORY - Part 12 (Man/Teen)
ANOTHER LAWN BOY STORY
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By Fred Brothers
Copyright (c) 2003 Fredric Law Brothers - All Rights Reserved
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NOTE CAREFULLY: The following is a copyrighted work and is intended
solely for private, individual use. It may not be reproduced by any
known method, distributed or posted on additional web sites, without
the written permission of the author.
Disclaimer: This story is fiction. It bears no connection or
resemblance whatsoever to actual or specific persons and/or life
experiences or situations. If you do not appreciate gay,
intergenerational (that means man/boy love to the uninitiated or brain
dead) love stories, or you're under 18 years old, then please leave
this site now! Okay? You have been warned. Enough said!
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Part 12
We tote the plants and supplies in from the SUV, putting them in
the entry foyer and garage. Clay walks through the house, placing
those that do not need repotting in various locations. He moves them
around three or four times before finally satisfied with the location
of each one. He seems to have the uncanny knack for setting each plant
where it will be shown to its best. When finished, each one looks like
it absolutely belongs and is part of an organic whole.
We shower again - in separate bathroom, of course. I walk into
the kitchen, wearing only a pair of exercise short, find Clay already
there, studying and snacking from a large box of raisins. His crutches
lean against the table. We have spoken no more than ten words since
the conversation in the SUV. I'm pissed at him and I'm sure he's more
than a little ticked off at me.
I feel aggravated with myself for having been so intolerant...and
so fucking judgmental. Clay's explanation was an eye opener ... a
testament to the boy's honesty and integrity. Who the fuck am I to
pass judgment on another when my own life has been a series of failed
relationships...or, more accurately, no sustained relationships at all?
Yes! Clayton seems lonely...and dependent...and yearning for
attention ... and, quite possibly, desperate for love. But so am I!
Shit! No matter what kind of spin I try to put on it, I have become...
I am...everything that Clayton said he is. The part that hurt most is
his belief that I am so popular and he is the perennial loser and
outsider. But it's not true...not true at all. We are the same...
completely the same.
I make a fresh pot of coffee and pour myself a cup. Clay hops
over and gets himself one after I sit down. He's wearing those baggy,
red basketball shorts again. I stare once again, as his leg stump
gives a small kick outward whenever he takes a hop. I avidly follow
his every movement...until he sits again. I glance at the newspaper
while Clay continues his assigned reading, makes notes and slurps his
coffee. I turn on the radio, getting a classical music station. We
both continue in silence.
It is now I first notice that Clay is no longer wearing a top that
covers his arms. He has changed into a Chicago Bulls jersey, matching
his shorts. Both arms are fully exposed. Out the corner of my eyes, I
see the stump of his right arm skittering over the surface of the book.
I turn and stare, unable to check myself. I long to reach out and take
that beautiful arm into my hand.
Both of the boy's arms look attractive - pale skin, freckled, with
only the lower part of his left arm showing any hair - a rather sparse
sprinkling of red/blonde growth. His upper arms are softly contoured,
without heavy musculature. I find them irresistible. Both arms are
sleek, with only the slightest indications of muscle development - arms
like those of a preteen. Clayton has the lovely, graceful and gently
molded arms of a young boy. And I have this tremendous desire to touch
them...touch them endlessly...and lovingly.
Clayton's arm stump is smooth, slender and beautifully tapered,
the skin very pale and, to me, so, so inviting. At the tip, I again
see the small, rather indistinct C-shaped scar - a crowning touch.
Again, I begin to question myself...my motives...my sanity. Why?
Why do I find both of Clayton's severed limbs so appealing? Why do I
find them to be so sexually attractive? Is it normal? Of course not!
Then why? Why do I become so sexually stimulated? I cannot believe
how quickly I react...and how I always have this almost unstoppable
desire to touch them and fondle them. I have never, ever experienced
anything remotely like this almost chronic desire.
As I continue to gaze at his every motion, I find my mind racing,
my thoughts tumbling repeatedly...churning...agitated.
Is he playing a game with me?
Is he trying to lure me...
to entice me...
with what he knows I find so attractive...
so tempting?
Something I cannot resist?
Something I find so compellingly striking...
so infinitely appealing?
"Jesus, Cole. Why would he be consciously trying to lure you when
he has shown so little interest in your person - sexually or otherwise?
He treats you as a good friend, and nothing more. You're just one of
his buddies - without any of the accompanying sex play.
"Why would he be doing anything different now? He didn't talk
about your messaging of his leg or speak much when he brought you to
two climaxes. He seems to enjoy what we did but never details any of
his reactions or feelings ... if any. He barely responds to your
attentions. So why would he be doing anything now to tempt you? It's
just stupid thinking - bitchy and hurtful."
Okay, so maybe it's not a game.
Maybe it's an unconscious action on his part...
and he doesn't realize what's happening...
or what he's doing...
or what power his very presence has on me.
Maybe...
maybe it isn't a ploy...
or a game...
but just what he is...
what he naturally is...
and how he is...
a friendly kid...
just a very friendly teen.
If it is a game...or not...if he is trying to entice me and excite
me...or not...his actions definitely have a powerful affect. The more
I see of Clay...the more I am with him...and he with me ... the more
complete the spell. His glowing beauty...with all of his tender,
loving qualities apparent ... I find irresistible. I know what a
forceful effect this boy has on me. I am in love with everything about
him. For one of the few times in my life, I cannot satisfactorily
explain or enunciate the depths and the details of my feelings ... but
they are there...and I am aware of them churning within me. Feelings
previously unknown are surging...and swelling...and making me feel like
a novice in love.
I look directly at him and give him a deeply felt smile. He looks
up from his book and grudgingly gives me a small half smile in return.
I give him a wider smile and he returns a breathtaking one. I am
immediately warmed to my innermost core. I move a hand close to the
end of his arm and give a small nod. He nods in return. I gently
place my hand on the moving stump.
"Mmmmmmm," he moans lightly.
"I agree," I reply quietly while giving him a broad smile.
I feel it throb against my palm. The sensation is awesome. I
grasp it tighter, holding it tenderly in my grip. The erratic
movements of Clay's shortened arm, cradled in my hand, send a cascade
of tremors through my body.
"Cole? I'm ssso, ssso sssorry...that I acted ssso pppissy
bbbefore. Biting off your head...and...and acting...acting lllike a
know-it-all."
"I'm sorry too, Clay. I shouldn't have been so insistent...asking
all that personal stuff...pushing you. I shouldn't have done that. It
was wrong...I know that now...but...but ..."
"Nnnno, nnno, dddon't sssay that. No. You're rrright. I'm
ggglad you asked...and that I tttold you...`bout those ggguys ... and
said those ttthings." He looks at me, his eyes taking on a certain
burning intensity. "That's wwwhat pppeople do wwwhen they...when they
cccare. Right?"
I can feel tears forming in my eyes. "Right!" I respond gently.
"Thanks for your understanding." I raise the end of his arm to my lips
and kiss it lightly. Clay gives me a wide smile...and I'm happy.
I stand, and slowly move behind his chair. I kiss the top of his
head. To say that I am aroused is a decided understatement. It is
obvious - yet I am not embarrassed. I want him to know...I need him to
know. I need him to realize that my feelings are strong, my passions
great and my love real. I want him to understand me...and this love I
have. I need him to know how much I adore him - for his friendliness,
his endearing personality, his most wonderful companionship, and his
dazzling physical appearance.
I place both my hands softly on Clay's shoulders. He raises his
head but doesn't look at me - he just stares straight ahead. I kiss
the top of his head and rub my lips through his newly shorn scalp,
absorbing the excitement as the bristly hairs rub my face. I look down
on his white scalp...then kiss it again.
"Uh, thanks, Cole. I'm fffeelin' bbbetter...I'm fffeelin' much
bbbetter ... so much bbbetter...now." He gives a deep shudder. "You
mmmake me fffeel so great. You make mmme fffeel...well, when you dddo
this...these things to mmme...like touching my arm...and kissing me...
you mmmake me feel lllike I'm almost...uh...you know, almost...a..." He
swallows hard. "I know I've nnnever...I nnnever feel this wonderful...
in a lllong, lllong tttime...in my whole lllife...maybe!"
I move my hands along the tops of his shoulders, and tenderly
squeeze them. The feel is like someone moving the finest silk across
my palms. It alternately tickles, soothes and feels marvelously sexy.
There is nothing about him I do not want - want to touch ... want to
taste ... want to know. In the few days since we first met, he has
become my definitive fantasy man ... my ultimate dream ....
"And you make me feel terrific, Clay. Having you...just you being
here with me ... the two of us together...is...is such a enormous
pleasure. It's the most wonderful...wonderful time of my life. Truly.
Nothing has ever come close."
I realize what I just said is strong...and that it might very well
scare him - frighten him into possible inaction. But I had to say it.
I absolutely had to tell him the truth...about my innermost feelings...
and my deepest desires.
He turns his head, looks up at me, and smiles. I see his eyes are
moist, as I know mine are. His expression is one of quiet acceptance
and tranquility. He looks ahead, encouraging me to continue.
I rub him tenderly. He shudders again. I adore what I'm doing.
I'm crazy about the feel...I luxuriate in the warmth and softness of
the touch. His skin is smooth...unbelievably sumptuous. I've never
before felt skin like this on a man.
I move my hands off his shoulders and down onto his upper arms. I
squeeze slightly, and feel the delicate musculature of his biceps and
upper arms. I do not realized how small these muscles are until I
actually touch them ... and gently manipulate them. As I expected,
though, the muscles of his right arm are decidedly less developed than
those of the left.
My hands continue to play along his shoulders and upper arms,
slowly and soothingly caressing every square inch of his exposed flesh.
The skin is pale - almost white - and generously sprinkled with lovely
freckles. I kiss the back of his neck. I am taken with the beauty of
the soft, sparkling hairs running in a "V" down from the nape and
disappearing under his shirt. I rub my lips through them and am
overjoyed at the sensuous pleasure I receive. Those hairs are so
magnificently soft...so downy...like running my lips through freshly
beaten cream. He shudders and moans slightly. I am pleased with my
handiwork.
I lean over and kiss him lightly on the ear. He giggles. I rub
my lips on that cute ear and kiss it again...then lick it lightly and
carefully, following all the folds and delicate creases. He continues
to giggle lightly, but I notice that he also begins to breathe deeply.
I move to kiss and rub his cheek. He tenses...but quickly relaxes
...and I continue my attentions. He smells so delicious...so clean...so
fresh...and the feel of his skin on my lips is amazing...so pleasurable
...so memorable.
Clay raises his head, looking toward the ceiling. I rub my lips
over his forehead and plant numerous kisses there. I slowly slide my
moist lips down the side of his face, while continuing to kiss and
lightly lick his skin. Heavenly...absolutely heavenly. He is the
epitome of the sweet, loving, gentle man I've always imagined ... and
fantasized about...for the last decades.
I squeeze his arms a little harder, reveling in the soft, pliant,
muscles.
I kiss down onto his neck. His neck is glorious - long...sensuous
...with an extremely small Adam's apple and very few knots of muscles or
sinews. Caravaggio would have been ecstatic to have a model with a
face...and neck...and delicately slim torso like Clay's.
As I kiss...and lick...and gently suck his neck and throat, Clay
emits a low, almost moaning sound. I feel the vibrations through my
lips. I accept it as his recognition of my caring...the affection I
demonstrate...and how he appreciates the sensitive loving. I lick the
warm flesh and savor the sweet, nectar-like tastes he emits.
The tastes ... the feel ... the smell ... combine to produce an
extraordinarily effect. My body reacts as it has been programmed to
do. I am immediately and desperately wanting. I know I must have this
person...this indescribably desirable person...I must have him totally
and completely. I want him...but even more, I need him. I need him so
that my life - so that my very existence - can be whole ... and have
genuine meaning.
But now I become aware of a nagging, incessant voice working
through my brain, the shrill sound attempting to blot out this
extraordinary pleasure and happiness I am experiencing.
"You? You're three time his age..." the voice says. "Don't you
realize he's only a boy? And you? Three times his age!" And suddenly
over and over and over like a crazed manta. "He's a boy...three times
his age...a boy...three times his..." I cannot still the din.
I stand straight, jerking my head and body away from Clay. My
hands continue to gently rest on Clay's shoulders.
"Cole? Anything wrong?"
I don't respond.
He looks at me. "Cole? What's the mmmatter?"
"Uh...nothing, Clay. Uh...nothing's the matter. No." I try to
give him a reassuring smile.
"Sure?"
The voices have stilled...somewhat...but I'm still conscious of
their presence. "Yeah...uh...yes. I'm sure."
"Then ... uh...could you ppplease...you know, cccontinue dddoin'
wwwhat you were dddoin'?"
"Yeah. Certainly."
I'm thrilled. He likes what I've been doing! His request - that
I continue making soothing love to him - is like a bright marker on the
difficult road I have set for myself.
But still the voices bother me. Why the sudden attack of
conscience? Why now? Because we are getting close? Because I realize
my love for this boy cannot be satisfied just by the occasional touch...
or a few special times together? I want him more and more...I want to
be with him in new and different ways...and these desires will not be
satisfied until we are together...together as one.
I do, however, realize that I must play it cool...not to force...
not to force myself on Clay - to go about things at a slow, gentle pace
...his pace. Slowly...slowly and lovingly...letting him determine the
steps we take...the speed of our...our lovemaking.
I begin by squeezing his shoulders again and once more move my
hands down his arms. I resume kissing lightly down his neck and onto
his right shoulder...that beautiful, thin shoulder...moderately broad
but not at all muscular...the one with the incomplete arm. As I
lovingly kiss along the top of his shoulder, he raises that arm.
My eyes immediately fix on it. He gently brings the tip to my
right cheek and slowly and soothingly begins to rub it against my skin.
The stump feels so soft. The touch is exciting. The suppleness of his
alluring arm, rubbing my day old growth of beard, creates feelings like
I'd never known before. The comfort of it...the fantastic eroticism of
it...makes me tremble. I feel weak...and vulnerable...and overpoweringly
happy.
The closeness of his body...the knowledge that he is returning my
expressions of love...the feeling of our bodies touching ... the smell
that is Clay...combine to make me lightheaded...giddy...almost drunk
with pleasure...and anticipation. I turn my head, until I am able to
kiss and rub my lips over the tapered end of the stump. I poke out my
tongue and lightly lick...and suck...the surface. I can feel the small
scar and am captivated by the taste and feel. The newness of the
experience enraptures me.
"Oh, God! Cole! Cole! Wwwhat are you dddoing?" He pants
heavily...and begins to squirm.
"I'm disappointed in you Clay if you have to ask that question."
He laughs. "Thanks. I know wwwhat you're dddoing...but...but I
dddon't know what...what you're dddoing...to mmme...to my bbbody...and
all. Know wwwhat I'm ssayin'? Bbbut...bbbut...mmman, this is ssso...
ssso intense! Like nnnnever...nnnever before...."
He stands slowly and faces me. He balances on his leg, and he's a
little wobbly ... quite possibly from the intensity of our shared
emotional warmth. He breathes deeply. It sounds a little ragged...but
feels wonderful...as his warm breathe caresses my skin.
"Oh, Cole. This is ssso great!" he whispers. "So ... ssso...
great!"
I put my arms around him...pulling him close. The feel of his
arms wrapping around me...and holding me...the feel on his skin in
contact with mine are more wonderful than I had dare to imagine. And
the overwhelming knowledge that we are in an embrace - clinging to each
other ... tenderly caressing the other's body ... demonstrating our
affection...expressing our love...becoming one.
Clay maneuvers his crotch more deeply into mine ... and slowly
initiates a slight humping motion. My fantasies are being fulfilled.
The boy is finally demonstrating his inner desires. For the first time
he is making concerted, sexual overtures...welcome advances...to me.
And then I feel a most wonderful sensation of all - Clayton is
slowly raising his leg stump...and is proceeding...proceeding to slowly
rub it...rubbing it evenly and gently...against the top of my thigh. I
am electrified! I feel marvelously alive...alive and vital. I can
feel the stump of his arm on my back...and the stump of his smooth,
slender leg now in warm contact with my lower body.
I reach down to touch his leg. I move my arm slowly from
caressing his back to his leg, soothingly rubbing it along his body as
I move to my goal. I touch the warm skin of the leg...and begin a
rhythmic kneading of the delicate, soft flesh. Clay reacts by pushing
the leg more forcefully into me...increasing the area of contact. I
respond by manipulating it more strongly...letting my fingers push into
his pulsating flesh...letting them stimulate those pliant muscles. I
let my thumb follow the trail of the scar.
His body movements have become more pronounced. He is quivering...
and jerking ... and trembling. "Cole?" he pants, in barely controlled
gasps. "Could you? I mean...wwwould you...pppleeeeease?"
I pull back slightly...and stare into that incredibly adorable
face. His lips quiver ... so very faintly ... and then ... then become
slightly pursed. His eyes close ... his eyes close slowly and softly.
And suddenly I know! Like a thunderclap, I know! The sudden
revelation is awesome: I understand why Clay's arm and leg stumps hold
such an attraction. His vulnerability! Yes! That's it! These
severed limbs are the outward, physical manifestations of his great
vulnerability...of his frailty. They represent my unquenchable desire
to safeguard him...to protect him...to create a haven free from harm or
want...or fear ... and to love him - to love him with all my strength...
with all my heart.
"Yes, Clay. Oh, yes...yes...my love...."
The End of Part 12
(To Be Continued .... )
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You have finished Part 12 of my latest story. Thank you so much.
I would like to know your reactions to the characters and story -
anything you may want to say is greatly appreciated.
flbrothers@hotmail.com
Also, please put the name of the story on the subject line of any
email. Thanks again.
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If you haven't read my other stories here on the Nifty Erotic Story
Archives, please give them a browse. They are all in this same section
of the Archives. The date listed after the title is the date of the final
chapter posting.
WONDROUS SURPRISES Dec 15, 1999
GOLDEN BOYHOOD DAYS Jan 31, 2000
SUMMER WITH VAL Feb 11, 2003